“You too?” Sasha asked, hoping that he would answer in the affirmative.
Patrick poured her a drink, and she tried very hard not to notice how his forearms looked as he did that. He really shouldn’t be allowed to lift weights. It wasn’t fair, and it added too much to his mystique. She might have to take it up with the cardinal if this went any further.
“I mean, aside from moderate whiskey consumption, puzzles and books are really the only thrills left to me.”
Before she could stop herself from saying it, “Well, you certainly get to partake in physical exercise, too” popped out of her mouth. She looked down at her hands and could feel her skin stain red.
For his part, Patrick totally glossed over the fact that she’d just admitted to checking him out. Like a damned gentleman. “I haven’t done this one.”
“So you’re, like, really into puzzles?”
“People give me all the Catholic puzzles for birthdays and holidays.”
“Makes sense.” Sasha smiled at him, miraculously able to meet his gaze. He smiled back, and then it felt awkward again, but bearably awkward.
“Mind if I join you?”
Sasha had been hoping that he would ask that. In her fantasy version of the evening, it was just the two of them working on a puzzle. She forced herself to skip over the part where they were both overtaken by passion. Maybe she needed to add some thrillers into her reading rotation so her fantasy life could calm itself down just a little. Romance would always be her first love, but she could probably stand to add a little variety until her crush on Patrick waned.
But telling him that she didn’t want his company would be rude. In addition to enjoying the way he looked and the way he smelled, she liked being around him. He made her feel good. It was sort of the same feeling she’d had when she’d started hanging out with Hannah. Someone who was curious about what she thought and felt, instead of what she could do and how well she was behaving, was so refreshing.
The atmosphere in her family was filled with so much pressure. She hadn’t noticed it until she’d spent a good amount of time around someone who didn’t pressure her to be or do something else.
From Patrick, it was probably just gratitude that she’d agreed to help him out, but her stupid heart didn’t care about that. “Of course.”
He came around the bar and led her to a well-lit table in the corner. That’s when she noticed the boxes of puzzles stacked on a bookshelf in a little nook. “So, these are all your doing.”
Patrick gave her a smile that she would classify as roguish from anyone else. “I don’t think my brother could sit still long enough to do a puzzle, and my father’s idea of leisure time is cleaning the house.”
“You really do like puzzles.”
“Would I lie to you?”
“Never.” Sasha knew that. He had this honesty about him that didn’t have anything to do with not sinning being his thing. He was easy to talk to, and he looked as though he would keep all of her secrets.
They sat down, and Sasha spread the puzzle pieces over the table. That was always so satisfying to her. Like her own personalized form of ASMR.
“Where did all these puzzles come from?” Patrick furrowed his brow as though he were in pain, and Sasha regretted the question. “Never mind.”
“No, it’s fine.” He sifted his hands through the pieces and found a corner. “I used to do puzzles with my mom. Especially once she got sick.”
“I’m so sorry.” The last thing she’d wanted to do coming here was to make Patrick upset. She felt enough guilt at the idea of seeking him out, even though she had a sneaking suspicion that her crush on him was returned. That alone had the potential of being life-ruining. He didn’t need her to remind him of his dead mom.
But he made eye contact with her then. “It’s okay. It’s a good memory. Thank you for reminding me.”
Sasha wouldn’t examine the way his genuine smile warmed her to her toes and made her willing to do anything to experience it again.
CHAPTER SIX
THE GOOD NEWS WAS that Sasha had stared long enough at Nathan during their third date that she didn’t think he would ask her out again. The bad news is that she would probably be the subject of a Reddit post before the end of the night. The humiliation of going viral, even if it was anonymous, would probably make it so she couldn’t leave her house again.
Now that Hannah was at about half capacity because of morning sickness, her only source of pleasure was “Am I the asshole?” posts. Hannah would definitely recognize her in one of those and put her on blast.
It’s not like she had tried to seem like a total freak on her date. Going in, she’d only intended to try her hardest to grow an attraction to the man sitting in front of her instead of the man she couldn’t stop thinking about. She knew how bad she wanted Patrick to forget about his vows wasn’t healthy. It was probably pathological. She always wanted what she couldn’t have. For her, wanting something was better than having it.
Patrick might believe that she was special. Then again, his words might have been platitudes the other day. Maybe he could see that she was doe-eyed and smitten every time she laid eyes on him and wanted to pat her on the head and push her away.
That was probably it. If she truly deserved someone who saw her as special, she would have performed better on her date. Instead of squinting her eyes and trying to conjure a single, solitary dirty fantasy about the man across from her, she might have spent more time asking about his hobbies. According to Moira, this was much less gauche than asking about stock portfolios and investments directly—but no one with a serious skiing habit was lacking in funds.
At least that was the theory.
But no. She’d tried to imagine Nathan pushing her to the ground and pressing his body into hers. And then she tried to imagine him pinning her arms above her head against a wall and sticking his hand down her panties.
She couldn’t.
Multiple times over the course of their very nice, expensive dinner, Nathan had asked her what she was thinking. And each time she’d turned red and said, “Nothing.”
He probably thought she was completely daft or not into him.
The latter was definitely true, and she couldn’t stop beating herself up over it.
Nathan hadn’t had much to drink over dinner—just one beer. Sasha had three glasses of champagne in order to get herself in the mood. He’d probably thought she was drunk, which was probably why he didn’t even kiss her at the door.
The good news was that he wasn’t going to ask her out again. The bad news was that she wouldn’t have anything to distract her from fantasizing about Patrick. But it wasn’t fair to Nathan, and she knew that.